The Wrong Rose
by EmmaJ1996
Summary: Valentine's Day. What happens when Nikki and Harry find themselves spending this particular Tuesday together?


**Late Valentine's Day fic...enjoy anyway?**

**The Wrong Rose**

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Mm-hm," came Nikki's reply, head stuck in a case report.

"What? You're not telling me anything else?" asked Harry, incredulous.

"Nope."

"Oh, I see. Would I class him as unsuitable? Are you just going to keep answering me in monosyllables?"

"Yep," replied Nikki, smirking, as she got up and began to walk away. Harry groaned in boredom, spinning on his chair.

Suddenly, Harry caught sight of something on Nikki's desk. Well, his desk. Finding yet another excuse to escape the tedium of a Tuesday afternoon with no dead people, he leant over lazily to grab the object, scattering an entire tube of Mini Eggs in the process.

Cursing himself, he got onto his hands and knees to retrieve the runaway chocolates, which continued to roll across the floor, and scooped them up into his top drawer.

Then, standing up, he flopped back into his chair, rocking gently from side to side. His eyes continued to linger on the object on Nikki's desk. It was a solitary pink rose, wrapped in cellophane with a pink bow. Just the usual corny Valentine's gift that any man would buy at the last minute from any good supermarket, having forgotten to buy a gift.

He realised that the rose on Nikki's desk was probably from the same person who she was most likely spending tonight with. Not allowing himself to remain bitter about the prospect of a lonely Valentine's, pondering his missed chances with Nikki, he settled on seizing the opportunity to wind her up.

"Nikki?" yelled Harry from his chair, not even bothering to turn around.

When we got no reply, he called her name twice more, before deciding to go and find her. Walking past each room, he soon came across a familiar voice on the other side of the locker room door.

"But it's Valentine's Day...no...no it's fine...sure...another night..." came the fragmented conversation. Harry did not need to hear the voice on the other side of the phone to know that Nikki was on the receving end of a lame excuse.

He also knew that this was none of his business. But unsurprisingly, he still found himself glued to the door. Listening intently, Harry attempted to decipher what what being said, his best friend sounding less coherent by the second. Then again, he was eavesdropping through a thick glass door.

Suddenly, Harry's support was wrenched away from him as Nikki opened the door, bleary-eyed, clutching her phone in her hand. Seeing the concerned look upon Harry's face, she rolled her eyes and walked straight past him, back to the office.

Harry quickly followed her, mentally planning a small speech in his head, whilst still feeling slightly guilty for invading what Nikki had thought was a private conversation.

"Are you alright?" murmured Harry, sitting back down at his desk.

"Not now, Harry."

"But, Nik-"

"Look, whatever jibe or witty remark you were planning on making, please, just don't."

"Actually, I wasn't going to say anything like that. What you do is your business. I was just going to ask if you wanted to come over to mine tonight," stated Harry, matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

"Because I'm guessing we're both single for Valentine's Day now, and instead of moping by ourselves, I figured we could just boycott the occasion with a bucketload of wine and a ghastly rom-com of your choice."

"Even 27 Dresses?" grinned Nikki mischieviously, knowing that Harry had a pet hate for that film. He never understood why she wanted to put herself through so many weddings.

"As long as you ply me with enough alcohol first, then yes, I suppose. Shall we say 7-ish?"

"Sure," smiled Nikki, trying in vain not to show her enthusiasm at spending this particular Tuesday of the year with Harry.

...

Never had Harry been so nervous in his life. It was just like any other Tuesday, he told himself. It was just like any other time Nikki had come round for copious amounts of alcohol and a girly movie.

But in reality, this was different. Today was Valentine's Day. The realisation that he was spending today of all days with Nikki startled him. Never had they done this before, not properly anyway; this was unknown territory for both of them. And that thought terrified him.

...

7.20pm. She was late.

And although Harry knew that Nikki was probably still doing her hair or make-up, he couldn't help wondering if he had been ditched in favour of a hotter, sexier, more unsuitable offer.

...

7.50pm. A double knock on the door. Harry knew who it was, of course. Only Nikki would ignore the traditional doorbell in favour of her very distinctive knock. And only Nikki would be so late.

Getting up and leaving the glass of whisky he had been nursing on his dining table, he walked over to the door and stopped.

"I'm wondering whether I should actually let you in. We did say 7 o'clock, and you are late," said Harry, pretending to be annoyed.

"Fashionably so, you have to admit. And I'm cold. So by courtesy, you shouldn't leave a girl freezing on your doorstep on Valentine's Day. It's not polite," replied Nikki.

"No, you're right. And speaking of polite, leaving your lovable rogue of a best friend to cook for you on Valentine's Day and then not bothering to turn up on time: pretty rude too, if you ask me."

"Shut up...hang on a second...you cooked? An actual meal? Okay, let me in. This I have to see. Plus, I have wine. Good wine."

Opening the door, Harry cringed as Nikki surveyed the kitchen worktop to find several trays of Chinese food, not yet assigned a plate.

"So, it may have been a takeaway," revealed Harry, hanging his head in shame.

"Oh, Thank God. For a moment there, you had me worried. Right, what are we having?" inquire Nikki, rifling through the ambiguous unopened metallic cartons.

Nikki then left Harry to plate up the food, and find some matching cutlery, whilst she took the wine and glasses into the living room, and began to search for a DVD that she liked.

Knowing exactly where she could find her stash of DVDs, she put her arm behind the DVD shelf and retrieved her spare copy of 27 Dresses. Smiling proudly at her sheer brilliance, she opened the case and started the DVD.

"Oh, Christ, no. I said that only once I am good and drunk can I watch that thing willingly," groaned Harry in exasperation.

"Well, then you'll have to drink faster then, won't you?" retorted Nikki, poking her tongue out at Harry, and flopping onto the sofa next to him.

...

The credits of the film had long finished. The DVD menu continued to whirr on a loop, much to the annoyance of a semi-awake Harry. He had a sleeping Nikki lying across his chest, her legs curled up beside her. Covering both of them was a blanket that Nikki thought was strictly necessary to be cosy.

Having been in the same position for quite a while now, Harry began to lose sensation in his leg. Not wanting to endure a painful bout of pins and needles, he attempted to shift his leg gently, without waking up Nikki.

However, Nikki must have been sleeping lightly, as she soon stirred and blinked up at Harry, yawning.

"What are you doing? Go to sleep," hissed Nikki, closing her eyes and snuggling into Harry's chest.

It was quiet again for a while, until Harry noticed that Nikki was vibrating. Well, not literally. He could see through her pocket that her phone was lighting up and buzzing. He thought it best not to wake her again, so delved into her pocket to see who was calling at such an unreasonable hour.

Reading the caller display, Harry was displeased to see a name he did not recognise. Matthew? Who the hell was Matthew? Why was he calling Nikki? Was he the guy who gave her the rose? Was he her date that cancelled? Why was he so bothered by a name on a phone? Was he just being paranoid?

As luck would have it, Nikki awoke just as her phone stopped buzzing. Appearing confused for a moment as to the location of her phone, she tutted when she saw Harry scrutinising the name on her phone.

"Just how nosy are you? Next, you'll be reading my texts," Nikki sighed.

"Who is he?" Harry decided to pry; he was on a roll now. If he was going to be nosy, he'd be really nosy.

"The guy I was on the phone to this morning. Don't pick it up if it rings again. I don't want to talk to him right now." Nikki replied.

"Was he the guy who gave you the pink rose?"

"Yes, Harry. Can we drop this topic now? I'm tired," yawned Nikki, curling back up on the sofa.

"Don't go out with him again. He's not worth it."

"Oh really? In what way?" asked Nikki, shocked and puzzled.

"He gave you a pink rose. You give a red rose for Valentine's Day. A pink rose is what you give to a friend. Only an idiot would get that wrong." stated Harry.

"Well, thank you for your analysis of the people I date, but I really don't think it's necessary," joked Nikki, "What colour rose would you give me, anyway?"

"A red one," Harry stated boldly, without any hint of hesitation. He was really biting the bullet tonight. The alcohol must have loosened his tongue a great deal more than he had thought. Did he really just say that?

Nikki smiled gently, her eyes questioning his. Harry slowly leant down and kissed her gently on the lips. No sooner had he pulled away, Nikki had put her arms around his neck to pull him in for another, more bruising kiss.

Breaking away when the need for oxygen became too much, both Harry and Nikki grinned wildly.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Harry," whispered Nikki.

"Merry Tuesday, Nikki," replied Harry.

Nikki rolled her eyes, and then snuggled down once again, across his chest. Both slept soundly all night long.

...

..

.

**Had so much fun writing this :)**

**Thanks to tigpop, pinkswallowsun, ScientificAnomaly, Charlotte88, Thyqua, Immortal Spud Thief, rbs89, ImaginaryGirlxx, hopelesslyhalfhearted for your 4 reviews, and Lottie for your all-round awesomeness! Thanks for reviewing my lst fic...and thanks for not giving up on me!**

**Thanks for reading and sorry for being so useless at updating :) I love you ALL!**

**Ems xoxox**


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